


Dark Clouds

by Daniela_is_not_amused



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Bad Parenting, Deceit Sanders Has a Different Name, Gen, Good Deceit Sanders, Hybrids, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mutant Powers, Sad Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, but it's a minor character, deceit's name is Dolion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23315293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daniela_is_not_amused/pseuds/Daniela_is_not_amused
Summary: In his mind, Virgil tells Dolion about how he's sometimes afraid of what he is and what he's done and what he could do, and there are nights where he lies on top of the sheets and curls up and hopes he won't lose control and hurt anyone. He thinks about how stupid and careless God (or the Universe or whatever) must have been to give supernatural powers to someone so unstable.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit Sanders
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	Dark Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language. Not beta-read. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

This is not where Virgil wants to be.

He wants to sit at the back of the bus, shrinking inward till he turns invisible. He wants to, but they've carefully herded him to the space just across the aisle from Remus and Dolion. The only bright side to this is that he doesn't have to deal with anyone sitting next to him; Roman and Patton are together and Logan is clear on the opposite end of the bus. No one else ever tries to go near him, which is one of the perks of being an orphan who sneers a lot and doesn't talk to people.

There's never been a time in Virgil's life when he's been particularly approachable. He thinks that should sadden him, but when people strike up a conversation they have this habit of asking him,

"You okay?"

Virgil stiffens, turning to look at Dolion. The empty seat is no longer empty, and Virgil can't say he's thrilled about the sudden proximity. He nods mechanically, then looks back out the window, taking in clouds that might as well be Rorschach blots for all the shapes he's seeing in them.

"Sure about that?" Dolion insists "'Cause, y'know, you may have crazy regenerative powers, but I'm pretty sure your clothes don't."

Two thoughts occur to Virgil at around the same time. One is that anyone could have overheard the casual mention of supernatural healing, unlikely though it is that they'd be eavesdropping to begin with. The other is that he has no idea what Dolion is even talking about, and it isn't until he follows Dolion's line of sight that he sees - and feels - his claws stabbing into his own leg. The smell of blood rushing into his nose is like a truck slamming against a concrete wall, sudden and violent.

It takes a few seconds for him to have the presence of mind to find his anchor and come back. He raises his hand to stare at the red on his fingers, resisting the inexplicable compulsion to lick it off.

"Virgil?"

Virgil tears his gaze away from the bloodstains to look at Dolion again. Somewhere, hidden under the rumble of the bus and the words of every conversation around them and the wind whistling through some open window, the steady rhythm of Dolion's heartbeat picks up. The increase in tempo sounds like mild anxiety; Virgil can discern that from the rapid thump of terror or embarrassment easily enough. 

People can say all they want that they're concerned and have his best interests at heart. That doesn't make their worry any less of a nuisance.

"I'm fine," he says. Then, for the sake of being polite, he adds, "Thanks, though."

"Bullshit," says Dolion. "You look sicker than Remy. Seriously, dude, you are looking pale. And sweaty. This is about what happened this morning with Roman?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Now that I believe."

Virgil clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth like he can crush this strand of conversation between them. He refuses to make eye contact, thinking that if he faces the window for long enough, Dolion might take the clear dismissal for what it is and leave him alone.

"Hey, like I said, if you need anyone to-"

"I don't," Virgil cuts in through gritted teeth.

When he feels Dolion's hand give a single pat of reassurance on his shoulder, Virgil is careful not to flinch. The result is that he goes rigid in his seat, instantaneously less like a person and more like a titanium-reinforced structure. Dolion yanks his hand away quicker than if he'd touched a hot stove.

"Sorry," he says. "Wasn't thinking."

Virgil shrugs and relaxes his posture like he couldn't care less. The truth is that he's mortified at his own skittishness, his sudden distaste for contact. He isn't like this. Most days, he can even handle Remus tackling him. The thought of a light touch on the shoulder making his skin crawl is just pathetic. He wishes he could convey that to Dolion without saying anything, and without risking the sight (and sound and feel and stench) of that nauseating sympathy he's so accustomed to.

"All right, well, you're givin' off some pretty strong 'fuck off' vibes, so I'll leave you to it," the other boy mumbles with a grimace.

There's a short and panicky moment between the end of the sentence and the second Dolion starts to leave his seat, just long enough for Virgil to fret over a million things at once. His eyes go wide and he turns his head so quickly he feels a twinge of pain in his neck.

"You don't have to," he says in a rush. "I mean, you can go if you want. Either way, I don't mind. You know. Whatever."

"Man, nothing says friendship like kind of tolerating someone," Dolion replies, settling back down on the shitty vinyl.

His smile is tight around the edges, and Virgil doesn't exactly need superhuman senses to see how exhausted the guy is. It's the kind of exhaustion that goes beyond a lack of sleep, the kind acquired through an onslaught of thought and emotion. The tiredness is written all over him, from the bags under his eyes (and this is where the added perception kicks in and says the salty puffiness is the product of tears) to the slight sluggishness of his movements. Virgil feels kind of guilty for snapping at him - almost guilty enough to apologize, but there's that saying about horseshoes and hand grenades, and Virgil hates "sorry" more than most words. He's done with apologizing more than he has to and likes the idea of things not being his fault.

So instead of admitting aloud that he feels like a dick for taking things out on Dolion, he asks, "So what's the plan? What do we do when we get back?"

Dolion lets out a whooshing breath that makes his cheeks puff. "Well, since finals are almost coming up, I say studying a bit wouldn’t hurt us too much. Also, I need to go schedule an appointment because my face it’s starting to peal off and it’s getting pretty itchy. And you need to go and ask Mr. Sing-a-Lot to be your prom date."

It's a lucky thing no one on the bus gives enough of a fuck about them to listen in on what they're saying, since Virgil isn't sure how either of them would come up with a believable excuse for this. Subtlety really isn't their strong suit. It's the greatest of miracles that their big supernatural secret hasn't been found out yet.

"What if he doesn’t want to go with me?"

"Then we're just as boned as we were yesterday." At Virgil's frown, Dolion backtracks. "We'll figure something out, Roman or no Roman. I don't care if we have to use the friggin' power of love and friendship - we'll manage."

"Yeah?" Virgil's lips curl into a smirk. "Are we talking Harry Potter or My Little Pony?"

"Oh god," Dolion groans. "Please don't mention that when Remus's nearby. He's fucking in love with My Little Pony. He even called me Pinkie Pie for a week one time."

Virgil surprises himself by laughing quietly. "I wouldn't worry about it," he says. "He's texting, and you know he can't multitask."

"Yeah, you know, I'm actually pretty amazed he can blink and breathe at the same time," Dolion mutters under his breath, and they share a smile.

Still, there's an unspoken consensus between them that they wouldn't trade Remus for anything, because even with his slow moments and bad judgment and weird, almost insane, sense of humor, he's still the exact kind of guy you want on your side. Virgil can't call many people friends, not for real, but Remus? Remus's one of the best friends he's had in a while. Maybe ever. 

Virgil turns to look at Dolion, who's still sitting by his side even though he has no reason to. Dolion, who also has a dead mom but at least got a caring father out of the deal. Dolion, who likes true crime shows and greasy food and the way Remus laughs; who doesn't shy away from Virgil in spite of everything Virgil's done and threatened to do; who doesn't admit to liking boys, even though Virgil's caught him staring at Remus on more than one occasion.

There's no reason in the world for Virgil not to dive right in and start spending time with Dolion, watching some shitty tv show and sneaking beer out of his dad's fridge and slaughtering each other in Halo. He has more in common with Dolion than any of the guys in their class, and if things go all right, Dolion could be someone he could talk to.

It's been a long time since Virgil has talked to anyone about anything that matters. He wonders if he's forgotten how.

In his mind, it goes like this: He makes a snarky comment, Dolion fires back, and they go back and forth till Virgil finds a way to hint that they should hang out more. Maybe with Remus - or without him. Whichever. And Virgil confesses to Dolion that he still thinks about his dad all the time - and not just the beatings or the punishments in the freezer, but him teaching Virgil how to ride a bike, helping him with his fifth grade science fair project, crying over photos of his mom. And on a good day, those hurt more than the phantom pains of a cracked rib or a cut on his temple.

In his mind, Virgil tells Dolion about how he's sometimes afraid of what he is and what he's done and what he could do, and there are nights where he lies on top of the sheets and curls up and hopes he won't lose control and hurt anyone. He thinks about how stupid and careless God (or the Universe or whatever) must have been to give supernatural powers to someone so unstable. 

In his mind, it's easy for Virgil to tell Dolion that he misses his dad: grudgingly, painfully, maybe against his better judgment. In his mind, Dolion appreciates him. And that - that means something.

"Everything okay, Grumpy Cat?" asks Dolion. "I mean, not gonna judge, but you've been staring at the back of that seat pretty fucking intently. Like you're gonna kill it. Or have sex with it. It's kinda freakin' me out a little."

"Sorry," Virgil says out of reflex. He blinks a few times, feeling like he's just been shaken from a dream. "I was just thinking."

"About murdering or fucking the seat? 'Cause, dude, I was mostly kidding."

Virgil looks at Dolion bemusedly. "Mostly?"

"Well, yeah, I dunno what you cat people get up to," Dolion complains, rising his hand up in a ‘don’t blame me’ stance. "But no, really, what were you thinking about? Care to share it with the class?"

Virgil almost says an immediate and resolute no, except he remembers that isn't the way to approach any kind of closeness with anyone. He hesitates, wondering how much of the truth would be safe to tell.

"How much everything sucks," he says.

"Tell me about it," Dolion says in agreement. "I'd kill for some normal problems right about now."

"Normal?" Virgil can't help laughing at the word. "You'd rather freak out about guys and art class than controlling our powers?"

"Are you kidding me? I still freak out about that, dude. But they've taken a definite backseat to everything else in my life. Hey, should we be worrying about people listening in on this?" Dolion's voice lowers on the last part, like he's only just gained an acute enough level of consciousness to wonder at the very thing that's been bothering Virgil throughout the conversation, and weirdly, that puts Virgil at ease.

"Nah, I don't think they give a fuck. Probably think we're part of some D&D group or something."

To Virgil's surprise, Dolion says, "Man, I wish. That would be so cool. You know, we should totally start one with the rest of the guys. I bet Logan would get off on being our creepy, underhanded DM and sending us on a ton of annoying missions with shitty loot. And we could force weird romantic subplots with Remus and Patton's characters and make everyone uncomfortable. That would be awesome, dude."

"No shit?" says Virgil. "Do you ever play?"

Dolion shakes his head. "Never had anyone who was interested in starting. Or knew how to play. Unless." His eyes widen slowly as he looks at Virgil with hope and wonderment.

"Uh." Virgil scratches his neck awkwardly, making sure to use the hand that doesn't have a layer of dry blood on it. "I've played a little. Not much, though."

That's kind of a complete lie. He had friends in middle school who got him hooked on it, but he hasn't played with a group or anything since his mom - yeah. Since his mom.

"Oh my god, are you serious! That's perfect!" Dolion turns. "Remus! Yo, Remus! We're gonna be a stereotype and start a D&D group!"

Remus's sigh isn't as long-suffering as he'd probably like it to be. "Yeah, whatever. Dibs on paladin," he says, not looking up from his phone.

"No, you're gonna be a halfling."

"Come on, dude."

"Virgil, tell him he's gonna be a halfling," says Dolion.

Remus glances over to give Virgil a pleading look. "Virgil. Come on. Say I'm not a halfling."

Virgil just smiles, shaking his head and pointedly looking away. He hears Remus groan, and then Remus and Dolion are bickering in the way of either a married couple or two old, old friends. It would ignite the slow-burning flame of Virgil's envy if he didn't feel a slightly desperate sort of protectiveness over them both. If he can't be happy - and it's more of an if than ever, more of a vague possibility than a likelihood - he can at least ensure that they are.

It isn't as though Virgil can just forget about the things that have happened, the people he's lost and who've failed him. He won't bother trying, 'cause he knows he isn't strong enough, or certain enough, or fortunate enough. But even so, he can maybe fool himself into thinking none of that matters, that it doesn't affect him or define him. He was doing a decent enough job of it before now, constantly deluding himself into thinking he was normal and not a frightened, unbalanced child.

Now Dolion is watching him, eyebrows raised.

"What?" asks Virgil, hoping he hasn't been broadcasting his sudden and aggressive bout of melancholy.

"This is probably the first time I've been near you for more than five minutes and haven't felt like you're trying to kill me with your brain," says Dolion.

Virgil doesn't say anything at first. Doesn't know what he's even supposed to say. Dolion's expression turns grim, and fuck if that doesn't make Virgil the slightest bit jittery.

"That was just, uh." Dolion clears his throat. "Firefly."

"Haven't watched it," says Virgil.

"Remus hasn't seen Star Wars," Dolion replies.

"Wow."

"I know."

Fidgeting, Virgil looks down at his lap. The blood probably isn't going to come out, he thinks. Does he have the money for another pair of jeans? Mrs. Hart hasn't let him pay for anything, so he must have at least a little saved up. Still, it's kind of annoying. Replacing bloodstained clothing has always been one of his least favorite activities.

"Hey, when we're all done trying not to get killed before finishing high school, we should watch it" Dolion added abstractedly, as he eyed Remus across the bus.

"What, Firefly or Star Wars?"

"Oh, definitely both. Just the original trilogy, though. I've got this feeling Remus would really like the prequels, and to be honest I'm not ready to deal with that."

Virgil smiles, then licks his suddenly-too-dry lips. "This before or after we start D&D?"

"One thing at a time," says Dolion. And yeah, that sounds about right.

"Dolion?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," says Virgil, meaning it for the first time in kind of a while.

"Dude, I have no idea what you're even thanking me for, but I'm so prepared to take credit."

Virgil knows that's a lie, but he absolutely doesn't mind.

**Author's Note:**

> The name Dolion comes fom Greek and it means "to lure, to deceive, to use deceit".


End file.
